(no subject)
Things were very blurry. J.D. rolled over onto his side and squeezed his eyes shut. He liked this warm sleepy place, he could see appletinis floating tantalizingly close to his outstretched hands. "I'll only need one of you!" he called, hands cupped around his mouth. He heard his voice echo, and squeezed his eyes shut tighter. Just a little longer, he thought, just until I can get my hands on their apple-y goodness...
J.D. had the vague realization that he was not, in fact, asleep, when he craned his neck forward to sip an airborne drink and got a mouth-full of sand instead. The shock of its grittiness forced his eyes open, and he spat violently. A daydream within a daydream, he thought, and lifted his head off the sand, how interesting. When he tried to push himself up onto his feet the jeans and boxers around his ankles tripped him and sent him sprawling back to the ground. "Even in my daydreams I can't poo without passing out," he muttered, and hiked his pants back up.
Instead of returning to his feet he lay on his back and laced his fingers under his head. The beach was surely better than prison, he thought with certainty, and grimaced. He hadn't really been driving his scooter, Sasha, when the officer had stopped him, only walking her along with the radio on so he could sing along. What harm was there in that? A little Caribbean Queen never hurt anyone or anything (except maybe Billy Ocean's career, in the long-run). And now here he was, so deeply ensconced in a daydream that it had been infiltrated by another, sweeter dream of appletinis.
"This has got to be a great one," he said fondly, and smiled his goofy smile as his eyes closed. The beautiful sunshine and warm breeze was a far cry from the crowded cell the cops had thrown him in, and J.D. was grateful to be removed, if only for the short-term. He was resting his eyes (he would have said 'falling asleep,' had he not been dreaming already) when some cropped-up sand blew across his face and he heard a muffled voice speak to him.
"Stop that," he spluttered, eyes squeezed shut tightly. "My daydream, my rules!" he called out, and pawed at the grains still clinging to his skin. He wanted to get the sand out of his eyes so he could see where the voice was coming from. It was strange that J.D. wasn't sure he recognized it. "Excuse me," he said to the person approaching, eyes still shut, "but you haven't seen an appletini have you?" He held out his hand and mocked holding a glass. "It would be wearing a martini glass."
[[J.D. makes his debut from Season 6 Episode 9, during which he passes out (thanks to a medical condition) in a jail cell after being arrested for drunk scooting. Please note that he has, in fact, pulled up his pants. All tags welcome! Still happy to welcome late taggers!]]
J.D. had the vague realization that he was not, in fact, asleep, when he craned his neck forward to sip an airborne drink and got a mouth-full of sand instead. The shock of its grittiness forced his eyes open, and he spat violently. A daydream within a daydream, he thought, and lifted his head off the sand, how interesting. When he tried to push himself up onto his feet the jeans and boxers around his ankles tripped him and sent him sprawling back to the ground. "Even in my daydreams I can't poo without passing out," he muttered, and hiked his pants back up.
Instead of returning to his feet he lay on his back and laced his fingers under his head. The beach was surely better than prison, he thought with certainty, and grimaced. He hadn't really been driving his scooter, Sasha, when the officer had stopped him, only walking her along with the radio on so he could sing along. What harm was there in that? A little Caribbean Queen never hurt anyone or anything (except maybe Billy Ocean's career, in the long-run). And now here he was, so deeply ensconced in a daydream that it had been infiltrated by another, sweeter dream of appletinis.
"This has got to be a great one," he said fondly, and smiled his goofy smile as his eyes closed. The beautiful sunshine and warm breeze was a far cry from the crowded cell the cops had thrown him in, and J.D. was grateful to be removed, if only for the short-term. He was resting his eyes (he would have said 'falling asleep,' had he not been dreaming already) when some cropped-up sand blew across his face and he heard a muffled voice speak to him.
"Stop that," he spluttered, eyes squeezed shut tightly. "My daydream, my rules!" he called out, and pawed at the grains still clinging to his skin. He wanted to get the sand out of his eyes so he could see where the voice was coming from. It was strange that J.D. wasn't sure he recognized it. "Excuse me," he said to the person approaching, eyes still shut, "but you haven't seen an appletini have you?" He held out his hand and mocked holding a glass. "It would be wearing a martini glass."
[[J.D. makes his debut from Season 6 Episode 9, during which he passes out (thanks to a medical condition) in a jail cell after being arrested for drunk scooting. Please note that he has, in fact, pulled up his pants. All tags welcome! Still happy to welcome late taggers!]]